


The Fate That Love Built

by likehandlingroses



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen, I didn't know how to relationship tag it without being confusing but the MOMS ARE GAY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 03:36:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12762315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likehandlingroses/pseuds/likehandlingroses
Summary: A visit from a fairy about a boy torn from his future happiness changes the lives of spinsters Bridgette and Margaret forever. (Canon compliant).





	The Fate That Love Built

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t ask me why it took me this long to write a fic about Rumple’s gay moms but I’m ready. And I’m gonna write more because I Love Them
> 
> Also I was trying to figure out a graceful way to explain which spinster was Bridgette and which one was Margaret, but I didn't figure it out, so picture whatever you want but if you're asking me: Bridgette is the blonde one!

When she looked back, Bridgette couldn’t remember how the day had begun, only that for the life of her she’d never have guessed that anything spectacular could have happened on it. Her life had become routine at that point. A lovely routine, to be sure. She’d wake up next to the love of her life, work hard at something worthwhile, eat some warm food, and be off to a good night’s rest.

Many couldn’t say they had any of those things, and she was endlessly fortunate to have all of them. But such contentedness did cause the days to blur together, and so when Bridgette found herself staring at fairy fluttering next to her spinning wheel, she could hardly remember what she’d eaten for breakfast that morning.

Then, as though that weren’t enough to snap her out of her complacency, the damned thing popped out of sight only to reappear as a fully-grown person. Bridgette wished Margaret had been there to see it; she’d always talked of wanting to see a fairy. Besides, there was no telling what the creature was doing there, and it’d have been nice to have someone else around in case this fairy turned out to be malicious.

The fairy, who was beautiful beyond belief, didn’t seem at all concerned about how her intrusion had made Bridgette feel. Indeed, she smiled at her, though something sad lay behind her eyes. In an instant, Bridgette knew she wasn’t there to cause her any harm.

“I’m Tiger Lily,” she said. “You’re Bridgette, yes?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” Bridgette said, hoping her voice wasn’t shaking as much as she felt it was.

“Good. I need your help with something very important. It won’t take long. Do you know Malcolm and Fiona?”

Bridgette nodded, confused. “We sell to them often. Fiona’s gone missing, not a week ago. Terribly sad, especially for their boy. What’s his name again?”

Tiger Lily closed her eyes in pain. “Rumplestiltskin. A name given in hatred. He’s who I came to speak to you about. You see, I was his fairy godmother. It’s my fault Fiona is gone, and it’s my fault he’s been thrown from the path of his destiny.”

“His destiny?” Bridgette laughed at the word being applied to a poor scoundrel’s infant son. “And what would that be?”

“He was meant to be the Savior,” Tiger Lily said, serious as anything. “But his mother took his power from him--to save him, to help herself...I don’t know which anymore. Maybe both. At any rate, he is lost now. And I need you to help him find another path.”

In an instant, a peculiar object was in her hand. It was a sort of bean, only it glowed somehow. Bridgette guessed it wasn’t meant to be put in soup.

“Give him this, when he’s ready,” Tiger Lily said, pressing the bean into Bridgette’s hand. “It will open a portal and take him away from this place. Now that his fate has been torn from him, he doesn’t belong in this realm.”

Bridgette frowned. “Well, why don’t you give it to him, then? You’re his fairy godmother, aren’t you?”

“I don’t think so. Not anymore. I wish…” Tiger Lily broke off for a moment, blinking away tears. Then she shook her head, her voice coming back stronger than before. “You must make sure he uses it. Happiness and peace will not find him in this land. He has to go somewhere else.”

“So why leave him here? Fairy godmother or not, can’t you take him?”

“No, I can’t. It’s not who I am. Fairies are supposed to protect, and I didn’t protect him. I loved--I _do_ love him. But that’s not what I was meant to do. I failed, and so my part in his life has passed. So you must love him. If his father doesn’t--and I fear he won’t--you must.”

And just like that, she was gone. Bridgette stared at the bean in her hand, trying to think of how she’d ever explain what had just happened to Margaret. 

As it turned out, she didn’t have much time to consider the question, for Margaret entered the house only a few minutes after the fairy had left, her arms laden with things she’d picked up at the market.

“Something wrong?” she asked, and Bridgette had no choice but to simply tell her.

“I’d ask why she didn’t just tell Malcolm, but I suppose we all know why,” Margaret quipped. “Though for the life of me, I can’t think why she’d ask us.”

“You can’t?” Bridgette asked, her voice soft.

She always wanted a child. Indeed, when she was young she’d decided to herself that--should a man come courting--she would marry him. She could learn to love him, she thought. It wouldn’t be so hard, if she was doing it for a family.

Then Margaret had come along, and she’d known that such a plan was foolish. She’d never loved anyone like she loved her, and if having children meant pretending that wasn’t true, Bridgette knew she couldn’t do it.

So they’d built a life together, and it was a happy one. She’d chosen the right path, she knew that. And yet there’d always been something nagging at her, something that came to the fore when she spotted a child pulling her mother down the road or heard about how another neighbor had borne a healthy son.

She spoke about it sometimes with Margaret, who understood despite the fact that she didn’t feel such a strong pull toward motherhood. She liked children very much and would have been happy to raise one with Bridgette should it come to it, but the pain Bridgette felt wasn’t something she shared.

They’d come close, several times, to sharing their home with an abandoned or orphaned child. And yet somehow, something always fell through. One particularly horrid incident had involved an infant dying mere days after Bridgette had found her left outside near their barn. After a while, Bridgette had conceded that perhaps it wasn’t meant to be.

But this boy, this Rumplestiltskin? His fairy godmother had popped straight into her home and told her to love him. That had to count for something.

Margaret sighed, though her eyes were soft with understanding.

 "He’s not our child, Bridgette. And we’d just have to send him away.”

“No, she said we had to love him. And his father doesn’t want him, everyone knows that. Look: he could stay here with us, until he’s grown. And then make his way, you see?”

“It’s a nice thought. But I don’t know if Malcolm will let us take him.”

And for many years, he didn’t. Try as she might, Bridgette couldn’t convince Malcolm to let his son stay with them. He resented the boy, clearly, and wasn’t meant for fatherhood. And yet something tied him to the child. Bridgette wished she could say it was love, but it came off as more of a desperate compulsion, as if the admittance that he didn’t want his son would shatter some illusion he had of himself. It made her sick, but there was nothing to be done except try again the next year.

And then, one day, eight years into it, Malcolm came to them.

“You still want him?” he said by way of introduction. The next day, the boy was standing in their home, crying his eyes out over his father leaving him with strangers.

However, once he’d settled in, he proved to be a perfect fit in the household. He was clever and sensitive, eager to help and even more eager to be loved. Bridgette eyed Margaret more than once during that first day, and she was pleased to find that Margaret seemed equally enamored with him.

Nevertheless, when night came, a fear gripped Bridgette. Fairies, as she’d so often been told, spoke in riddles and played games with people. And what if, after all, Tiger Lily had meant that to love Rumple was to send him away? The fairy had said he couldn’t be happy in this realm, and who was she to pretend that it wasn’t selfish to keep the boy here until she was satisfied, until she’d gotten what she wanted from him?

And so--with Margaret’s blessing--they’d sent him away to his future, to a life where he might find peace. It hurt to do it, but he could be happy, now. And she wanted so desperately for him to be happy.

Only, not twenty-four hours later, he was back, and a sense of dread returned to her. She’d failed. Not only had she lost Rumple his one chance at happiness, but she’d opened the door to more pain. His father had left him, finally and forever, and there was nothing she could ever do to make that better.

This is what you wanted, a part of her mind whispered to her as she watched Rumple sleeping fitfully. You wanted a child? Now you have him, no matter the cost.

And yet, as she reached out a hand to smooth his hair, she couldn’t help but wonder if there were another answer. That she had not caused his pain, but had been sent to ease it. Perhaps the bean would never have worked. The world worked in mysterious ways.

There wasn’t a way of knowing how she fit into Rumple’s life, what role she and Margaret would play. But she knew there was only one thing they could do, and that was love him.

It was difficult, sometimes. She hadn’t expected that part. She was an older woman now, and had grown accustomed to life being a certain way. Rumple, though sweet and accommodating, was still a young boy, and his presence irrevocably altered that life.

Once, she’d found Rumple sitting idly in a corner, playing some game with himself, while a pot on the stove had boiled over.

“Why didn’t you get me?” she’d scolded. Rumple had stammered for a moment before admitting that he hadn’t noticed.

“I told you to watch it, didn’t I?”

Rumple nodded, looking guilty. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

“Well, sorry doesn’t fix this, does it?” Bridgette said, surprised that she remembered her own mother’s remarks after so many years.

“I can help,” he’d said, but she dismissed him.

“You’ve done quite enough, thank you.”

She’d started cleaning the mess, hardly noticing where Rumple had gone. It wasn’t until she finished that she saw him curled up on his bed, quiet as could be but shaking ever so slightly.

She wanted to sink into the floor with shame. When her mother had scolded her that way, it had stung only slightly. But she’d grown up loved and wanted. In his heart, Rumple would always feel lonelier than she’d ever had cause to feel. And she wasn’t going to do a thing to help him if she carried on that way.

She went slowly over to his bed and perched on the very edge of it. Rumple went quite still.

“May I speak with you?” she asked.

Rumple hesitated before turning around, but he did. His face was red and swollen from crying, and Bridgette reached out a hand to wipe away some of the tears still making tracks down his face.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “And I know that’s very silly of me to say, since I’ve just told you sorry doesn’t fix things. And it doesn’t...but it’s not supposed to. When you’re sorry, when you really mean it...sorry is about letting someone else know that you care about them. That if you’ve hurt or upset them, it hurts you a little bit too. And when they know that, you can move forward, yes? It’s not about fixing what happened before. It’s about going ahead. And I know you were sorry. It’s nice that you were, that you wanted to help. I should have seen that, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“I won’t do it again,” Rumple whispered. “I won’t, I promise.”

“Oh, yes you will,” Bridgette said, laughing softly. “Maybe not that exactly, but something else. We make mistakes, Rumple. I do, Margaret does...and you will too. And that’s alright, as long as we do our best and apologize when we don’t get it right.”

“So you’re not angry with me anymore?”

“No,” Bridgette shook her head. “I was never really angry with you. I was upset that it happened, and angry that I had to do it all over and clean everything up. But you didn’t mean any harm. I wish you’d paid more attention, and I hope you’ll do better next time...but I’m not angry with you. And I shouldn’t have made you cry so. Look at you…”

She cupped his face in her hands. “I must have sounded very nasty, to make you so upset. I’ll do better next time.”

“You’re not nasty, you’re the nicest person in the world. Well, maybe except for Margaret,” Rumple admitted. “But you’re about the same! It’s not your fault. I just get worried sometimes.”

“About what?” Bridgette asked, thinking that she knew the answer.

“That I’ll have go,” Rumple whispered, and tears came to his eyes again. “And I don’t want to, because I like it here. I don’t want to be alone.”

The words caused her more pain than she’d expected, but she swallowed itdown and gave him a smile.

“Let me tell you something that I know I’ve told you before, but sometimes we need to hear things quite a few times before we understand: this is your home. Margaret and I love having you here. We wouldn’t send you away for the world, much less a boiled over pot.”

She laughed, and Rumple cracked a smile.

“Can I tell you something?” she said. “I always wanted a child. Quite a lot. And I’d gotten to thinking I wouldn’t, which was very sad. Now, here you are. And it’s wonderful, you know? You’ve made me so happy. Do you know that?”

Rumple shook his head. He looked pleased at the news, but then a shadow of anxiety crossed his face.

“But it’s not the same as having your own, is it?”

“Well, I can’t compare, but I don’t think it’s much different. A family is a family.”

Rumple embraced Bridgette with everything his arms could muster.

“I love you,” he said.

And for the rest of her life, he did. He grew up faster than she’d have liked, but he remained as loveable and loving as ever. Bridgette still worried, from time to time, if what Tiger Lily said was true, if he really was doomed to unhappiness. He seemed happy enough, and while his father’s reputation preceded him, those who knew him liked him very much, for he was kind and trustworthy and skillful.

He could have been someone special after all, Bridgette thought to herself. And maybe he still would be. For though it had taken some time to nudge out of him, there was a spark in his eye that she’d seen growing ever since his youth.

No, he wasn’t destined for misery. He couldn’t be. Near or far, there was a place where he’d find himself, find happiness and peace. His fate may have unraveled, but his future? He had one, somewhere.

Bridgette hoped that their little home had played some part in making it.


End file.
